


though it's soaring still above your head

by impossibleredhead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Derek Comes Back, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Knotting, M/M, POV Derek, Post Season 5, broken bbs finding comfort in each other, i have no clue how this happened, not sad though, not what i meant to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibleredhead/pseuds/impossibleredhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you don't always need to forgive people to get that piece of yourself back.</p><p>sometimes, you just have to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	though it's soaring still above your head

“Harder. I – C’mon,” Stiles demanded, tilting his head back to display his neck. Judging from the way his head bounced, it was less intentional and more because he was starting to go boneless. The why hardly mattered – Derek could feel the change itching under his skin, begging to flash his eyes and press his claws to skin, show his human who he belonged to. He settled for upping the pace minutely.

“Fuuuck, yes. Yes yes yes,” Stiles grunted, shifting his hips down into it. His own human nails dug into Derek’s biceps, not enough to make him bleed, but enough to pull a tiny snarl from Derek, to make his hands tighten their grip on Stiles’ hips, pull him in harder for the next couple of thrusts. Stiles’ neck rolled around to tilt his head back down, locking heavy eyes with Derek as he shuddered out a gasp.

“Think you can do it?,” he mumbled suddenly, almost too low to hear over the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the bed creaking under them. Almost, but not enough for Derek’s hearing. His skin prickled, claws lengthening before he got himself back under control, gave a particularly hard thrust to offset it. Stiles blinked slowly, humming under his breath softly enough that he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Think you want it?,” Derek parried, carefully attempting to steer away from the topic.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, or that he really thought Stiles couldn’t handle it. If one thing had been most clear when he’d come back, it had been that Stiles had changed while he was gone. More mature, more thoughtful, more careful. He hadn’t made any quips or digging remarks about Derek in any way, and Derek hadn’t noticed how much that affected him until a week later, when he’d had Stiles pressed against the kitchen counter in the loft, lips mashed against each other, fingers clutching. It had been a steady progression from there, filled with a surprising lack of pitfalls that sometimes left Derek waking in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, texting Stiles and going by his place if he didn’t answer, just to check that he was alive, was okay. Neither of them mentioned it.

Above him, Stiles snorted condescendingly, dropping his weight heavily onto Derek and grinding to keep him pressed in deep there. Derek’s breath left him in a huff, fingers scrabbling at Stiles, whispering a needy ‘fuck’ and hoping Stiles couldn’t hear it. Judging by the satisfied smirk and additional roll of his hips, it wasn’t likely.

He levered himself up, chest pressing into Stiles, pushing him to lean back a little. He wrapped a hand over Stiles’ shoulder, using it to help hold him up and to push him down while his hips pressed up and up and up. A keening whine tumbled out of Stiles’ lax mouth, desperate and completely shameless.

It was like just the suggestion from Stiles had flipped everything on its head. He wanted to roll them over, box Stiles in until he could hardly move, let alone go anywhere. He wanted his teeth at Stiles’ throat, his claws against his skin, wanted to press and press until no one could ever get his scent out of Stiles. He whimpered at the howl prickling under his skin, the clawing desire to have, to take, to keep.

“Yeah.” It took a long moment for Derek to realize that was an answer, not just Stiles running his mouth again.

He stared, not quite able to force himself to stop and talk this through. It was a serious thing, not something you just decided on a whim while fucking. All the same, he wasn’t really leading with his brain right now, which might have been screaming that they stop and talk, but if it was, he couldn’t hear it over everything else. The pound of Stiles’ heart, which had weirdly calmed a bit with the suggestion. The sounds Stiles kept making, tiny moans and grunts that matched the timing of skin smacking, hips thudding. Heavy breath from them both permeating the otherwise-silent loft.

“Yes, fuck, of course I – what kind of question is that?” Really, trying to talk through the thrusts shouldn’t have worked so well. Stiles was a master at talking though, which left Derek listening close to hear the way he sometimes stumbled over a consonant, took too long of a pause or drew a word out. Trying to catch every little clue that Derek affected him somehow, threw him off. If it made his breath catch, made him want to pound in harder and ask question after question, well. Probably not healthy, but that was Derek’s issue.

“I want it,” Stiles’ fingers were slipping across the sweat-slick skin of Derek’s sides now, loose and making no real effort to actually get a grip on him. Stiles was about to drop out – they’d been at it for long enough that his thighs were probably burning, was definitely getting the boneless flexibility of the well and truly fucked. When Derek pulled his eyes away from the body bent back before him, Stiles’ eyes were heavy-lidded, lazy in the way they got shortly before he came. If he miraculously managed not to pass out, they’d stay that way for a good hour afterwards, too.

“You’re sure,” he panted out, pulling Stiles in closer, too much distance between them. Stiles let out a pathetic gasp when his cock was pressed in against Derek’s shifting abdominal muscles, finally getting some sort of stimulation.

Typically, Stiles was all about bossing Derek around in bed. The first few times had been awkward – he’d been terrified of bringing up bad memories, had tried to stay unnaturally silent. But once he’d got the hang of what they liked together and Derek had told him off for trying to protect him, Stiles had come into his own. He didn’t typically deny himself, but he’d said something about wanting to make it last longer tonight, and maybe Derek knew why now.

“ _Derek_. Yes.” Stiles grunted, working his hips down into a thrust, making it harder than it was intended to be. Suddenly, it was like a race to the finish line that only Derek was really participating in. Was actually sabotaging himself in, given the fact he was trying to push Stiles there first. The hand over Stiles’ shoulder moved to clasp tight over the back of his neck, holding him in place while Derek pounded up, not quite as hard as he could but definitely hard enough that there would be bruises later. The thought only egged him on further, tightening his grip as he could feel his eyes bleed red. Stiles was leaking precum between them, slicking Derek’s abs and sliding smoothly, Stiles’ breath catching and heartbeat building.

Stiles was panting out little moans non-stop, the sounds almost drowned out by his racing heartbeat. He was close, almost there. His eyes latched on Derek’s through their heavy lids and he grunted once before Derek hit that spot once, twice, three times in a row. Suddenly, the only thing he could hear was Stiles’ heart, the beat ratcheting up to impossible levels inside his chest while everything else stopped. Stiles didn’t even breathe when he came, going completely still, back bent and stretched taut for Derek. Finally, after a few seconds that felt like minutes, Stiles let out a shaky sigh, going truly boneless and flopping forward into Derek. He panted against Derek’s neck, trying to catch his breath. The feeling made Derek snarl, knowing with a vicious pleasure that he was going to smell like Stiles all over, like he belonged to Stiles.

Unable to hold back for long, he gave a tentative hard thrust, grunting when Stiles only let out a low moan. He set an even faster pace, Stiles bouncing bonelessly in his lap before the need was too strong and he rolled them over, Stiles on his back below him, Derek pressing down into him. He moved a hand back to Stiles’ shoulder, keeping him from sliding away while the other hand planted next to Stiles’ waist, blocking him in even though it was clear Stiles didn’t want to go anywhere. He was muttering little encouragements under Derek, humming as he gave a few hard thrusts.

Derek snarled, far beyond words, as he felt it coming. Stiles’ head tipped back for him again, and that was it really. One more hard thrust to bury himself in as far as he could get, and the knot was popping. He whimpered, the force of the orgasm sweeping him off his feet and gutting him as he rolled his hips against Stiles, breath catching and coming back with every pulse of his dick. His hands had moved, were gripping Stiles’ hips definitely hard enough to bruise again as he emptied himself in him.

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles moaned below him, lifting a hand to stroke down Derek’s arm, worming a finger in to wrap around Derek’s pinky. Somehow that was what broke him, left him pressing his face into Stiles’ neck, snuffling, whining loud and long against the thin, sex-warmed skin there.

Later, when his protective, defensive instincts had calmed enough to let him put an inch of space between them, Stiles didn’t complain about it. Didn’t make any comments about any of it, except to say ‘that was fucking awesome, we need to do that again’, to which Derek grunted a somewhat-affirmative noise, too fucked-out and focused on the feel of himself still locked inside Stiles to really pay attention or care what he was agreeing to.

**Author's Note:**

> this was not the fic i set out to write. at all. i saw a gifset about power bottoms and meant to write a stiles-is-a-power-bottom, but somehow i came out with not-quite 2k derek pov emotional season 5-inspired filth. i really don't know anymore.
> 
> title from Bastille's amazing [Weight of Living Part 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyzHYg9BYRs)
> 
> come stalk my [tumblr](http://impossible-redhead.tumblr.com) if you want


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